Sick days are more fun when your playing with fire
by Jasmine Dawn Pendragon
Summary: Riza Hawkeye comes into the office just like every other day however, she is very sick. She faints in front of the flame alchemist, who rushes her to his own house. What happens next to this stubborn girl? RR please!
1. Chapter 1

**Sick days are more fun when your playing with fire**

Chapter 1 - You look like hell, Hawkeye

Based off the story: Love sick

by: Gundams forever

Riza Hawkeye was normally one of the most alert people in the military with her fast reflexes and sensitive ears that could hear someone at least half a mile away. Today, however, she was less than that. In fact, Riza Hawkeye, called Hawkeye or first leutenent Hawkeye. Hardly ever called by her first name alone. A stuffy head was hard to live with when your rumored to be one of the best sharp shooters around. So was a cough that made her throat feel like someone was using a rake down it. Always on time, exactly on time, if not a tad early. Today, however, she was late. She met Havoc when she came inside, with his cigarette, not yet lit in his mouth. He took one look, and the cigarette fell unnoticed from his thin lips. "Hawkeye! What the hell!" he asked. She gave him a weary look and passed him.

Hawkeye was sick! She was NEVER sick! She looked extraordinarily pale today, her eyes red and watery. He noticed that she wasn't walking straight either, not by a long shot. Hell, her uniform was wrinkled too. Clearly, something was wrong. He shook his head and finally noticed the cigarette that was currently in his mouth before she passed by, looking like hell. She was tired, he could see that, without a matter of a doubt. "Close your mouth, you'll draw flies Havoc." she said wearily.

The other guys she saw had the same looks on thier faces. Fury was leaning against the desk and when she had walked by, his hand that had been supporting him slipped and he ended on the ground. Falman, the most serious officer she had ever met with eyes as thin as his grey-brown hair, was staring at her with wide eyes, and Broch, who was sitting in a chair, fell promptly out of it while stuttering about something 'best-sick." She would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact that she was feeling so bad. She trudged into Mustang's office, as tired as ever.

However, Mustang didn't even appear to notice, being busy on the phone and signing papers by the stack. He yawned and put the phone down, turning to Hawkeye without really looking at her. "Can you finish a few of these for me?" he asked, handing her a stack of papers when Fury came inside with more. Mustang grumbled. "More work still." he murmured and took them from him, working on signingn them all. Finally, he pushed them out of the way around one, tired of looking at them, but not quite finished with all of them. He turned to see Hawkeye still working on the small stack of papers, her hair unusually dull and her body slouched. "Hawkeye?" he said in alarm, and when she turned to face him, he gasped, his dark eyes widening in deep surprise. "Hawkeye, if you were sick, you shouldn't have came in." he said, and she smiled wearily at him.

"Sir, I can handle it. Its nothing really." she said, standing on her wobbling feet. 'Stupid feet, your betraying me again!' she thought and was surprised when the colonel was at her side, holding her up. "No, you are far from being alright." he said, but she pulled away from him. Walking away from him, she reached up into the cabinet for a cup and poured some coffee into her cup. Turning back around, she felt the colonel's eyes still on her. "Colonel, I am fine." she said and returned to her chair, where she nearly fell into. Splashing coffee on her desk, she sighed. A napkin was instantly offered by Mustang. 'Stubborn man!' she thought before taking it and wiping the coffee up with it. Tossing it into the trash can beside her, she got back to work.

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Colonel Mustang watched her. Her state of health right now alarmed him. How had he not noticed it before? It was most definately disturbing. Her eyes, usually clear brown, was now foggy and red around them. She was abnormally pale and she was definantely unsteady on her feet. "Hawkeye." he said and he didn't like the way she looked so tired when she looked up. Hell, she was his best sharpshooter, and he would bet that she couldn't even shoot a tin can that was still and in front of her. "You need to go home. I am ordering you to go home and get some rest." he said. She looked at him and opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted her, knowing that it was best for her. "That is an ORDER Hawkeye, NOT a suggestion."

She looked at him with anger and pride flashing in her eyes. "Sir, no, I can continue." she said but he shook his head. "Home, now!" he cried. "I don't see how you made it this far. Now go home and get some rest!" he told her and she nodded, knowing that he wouldn't let her have her own way. 'Damned you Roy, I'm fine!' she thought she'd like to add as she stood up, beginning to walk towards the door when she grew very light-headed very fast. She stopped walking and the room began to spin. Round and round, making a strange whirling sound.

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The colonol watched her closely as she stood up and began walking towards the door. 'Stubborn girl!' he thought to himself when she stopped in the middle of the room. Suddenly, she fainted. Mustang was just in time to catch her before she banged her head against the metal desk in his office. "Hawkeye! Hawkeye!" he cried, waving his hand slowly over her eyes. He felt her forehead, and knew then that she had a pretty high temperature. "Havoc!" he cried and Havoc was in the office immediately. He had another unlit cigarette in his mouth when he came in. When he saw her, his eyes widened and looked at the colonel. "What should I do?" he asked. Mustang threw something at him. "Go get my car! Hurry!" he said, having tossed him the keys to his car.

Havoc grabbed the keys and ran for it, the rest of the guys following him. "What's happened?" asked Fury. Balancing the cigarette in his mouth while trying to talk and unlocking the colonel's car was difficult. "Hawkeye fainted. She's very sick. Move guys." he said and backed up to the entrance. Mustang was outside already by the time he backed up and pulled around. Hawkeye was in his arms bridal styled. The men were obviously worried. "My house Havoc." Mustang said shortly and got in, being especcially gentle with her.

He undone the hair piece that kept her hair up, thinking it could help her, letting her pale hair down. "Come on Hawkeye, stay with us now." he said as Havoc drove the way to Mustang's house. "Don't you think you should take her to a hospital?" he asked. Mustang shook his head. "No, she's not that bad off and she can be taken care of at my home. It will be more comfortable too." he said and got out as soon as Havoc pulled in to his house.

Unlocking the door with his keys that Havoc gave him back, he carried her in slowly, careful not to bump her head on anything. Leading her down to his own room, he laid her on the bed. The bed was made of mahogany wood with deep green curtains covering the rich canopy. The same colors were carried throughout the room. He slipped thee covers over her and told Havoc to go back to Central.

"Come on chief, you might need help." he said in a whiny voice, but didn't question anymore when Mustang looked at him. He seemed to be ready to hurl the man outside his home. "Go, now!" he said and Havoc did so. Mustang got a washcloth, soaking it down with cold water and placed it on her forehead. "Come on, Hawkeye." he said softly to her. "Wake up now. Your fine, your safe. Silly girl, you shouldn't have come in today if you were so sick." he said when she coughed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - Fire & Ice**

A wracking cough was heard from the bed, and Hawkeye sat up, her fist covering her mouth. A pair of honey-colored eyes scanned the room and her hand when from her mouth to her throat. "W-where am I?" she asked huskily before clearing her throat. Her eyes flicked towards the man who sat beside of her in a chair.

"Lay back down Hawkeye, and get some rest. Your at my house. Now, stay there while I get a washcloth. Are you hungry?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. She pondered this for a moment and shook her head. "Something to drink would be nice." she said hoarsely as Mustang left.

She took the opportunity to glance around at her surroundings. The man seemed to really like dark furniture and a deep green. She wondered why, but dismissed it when she found her hair band on a little nightstand. She took it and put her hair up into a sloppy bun, then got up, straightening her clothes - and wished she hadn't. Immediately, she started to feel lightheaded and fell to her knees, clutching her head with both hands.

The tinkling of glass could be heard as someone ran up the stairs to the room Riza was in. "Damned it Riza, I leave for one moment and you try to get up? You idiot!" he yelled, causing her to shrink away from him, but his touch was exceedingly gentle as he lifted her up to her feet, letting her lean on him.

Surprise flickered in her eyes as she looked up into his eyes, and saw concern written there - worry and concern over her. Over her well being, and health. She was touched, but wasn't sure what to think about it.

He smirked and in one quick movement had her bridal styled in his arms. She gasped and found herself on the bed moments after. "Now stay there, why don't you?" he murmured, and put the cold washcloth on her forehead, pulling up the covers to her chin like a child. "I'll be right back, and don't even think of getting up." he repromanded, and left the room.

When the door closed, Riza's red face, she realized, wasn't only because she was sick. Whenever she was so close to Mustang, she got like this - flustered like a silly little schoolgirl. And now, now he was treating her like a sick child. It wasn't likely that she would register as anything other than a close friend or worker in his eyes.

She sighed softly and closed her eyes. Maybe she could just forget about those silly feelings and continue to be his right hand guard. And just then, she realized that he had called her Riza, not Hawkeye - and what exactly did that mean?

Mustang collasped silently on the wall next to the room that Hawkeye laid in, and sighed. She still didn't get it, no matter the subtle clues. He would have to be more open about his feelings towards her, but was a little afraid to. Would Riza think him crazy, and refuse him? As soon as she felt better, she would leave, and when she did, she would take his best chance with her.

But there was nothing he could do at the moment - she was sick after all. All that he could do was to treat her as gently, as lovingly as possible. Sighing, he went downstairs and repaired the glass with a bit of alchemy, then returned to the kitchen to fetch a clean glass and to fill it with ice cold water with some crushed ice to keep it cold. He slowly climbed the stairs and set a coaster on the nightstand, handing her the water.

She thanked him and took a sip, accidently spilling a bit when a set of coughs racked her body, and he took it from her, trying not to spill it as he sat it down. "Riza, Riza are you alright?" he asked, immediately worried. She looked at him weakly. "I'm fine Roy." she said and saw a hint of a smile at her calling him by his name. "Calm down." she said, a tiny smile of her own.

Her eyes seemed to be closing against her will - had he put something in the water? She didn't think so, but she felt so sleepy for some reason. Her eyes only opened wider for an instant when Mustang bent down and brushed her forehead - the part that wasn't covered with a towel - with his lips before clearing his throat. "Get some rest Hawkeye." he said and left the room.

Changing back to her last name meant that it was an order, and it wasn't an order she intended to break either. It was far too comfortable in this bed to think of moving. Besides, she was so tired. . . and within minutes, she was alseep, dreaming of a certain individual who would come in every hour to re-dampen her washcloths, to check her temperature, to watch her as she slept, to brush her hair out of her face.


End file.
